In Which Peter Pevensie Tracks Time Obsessively
by Quillage
Summary: In Which Our Tale moves from Narnia into the real world that The Four have returned to, with subsequent problems.  *Sequel to "In Which Our Tale Begins"*
1. Chapter 1

_**Disclaimer: I, Quillage, own no Narnian anything. Except kind of my OC, Mel, who isn't actually Narnian, so she doesn't count. But seriously, Narnia + Me = Nada.  
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_**In Which Peter Pevensie Tracks Time Obsessively**_

They had been Back for three days, eight hours and thirty-seven minutes. Peter glanced at the clock. "Thirty-eight minutes." He sighed, still deeply confused as to why and how he happened to be sitting at a small table in England. He should be blessing a Feast in Narnia right now, not passing the rashers to Mrs. Macready.

Thirty-nine minutes.

Ever since the children had begun "behaving queerly," Mrs. Macready had taken it upon herself to keep an uncomfortably close eye. Apparently this included taking meals with them, much to the dismay of all.

The last few days had been nearly unbearable. Lucy had woken the house the night before, sobbing and screaming for missing friends, and ghost wounds pricked at their skin, startling them in the middle of conversations. The scars on their bodies earned over the course of fifteen years had faded, but didn't actually disappear, instead appearing pink and new. The long gash Peter had received down his front from a nasty encounter with a giant, now looked for all the world that someone had taken a smear of strawberries to his chest.

They were all horribly confused and uncomfortable. It was particularly difficult for Lucy and Edmund, for the simple reason that they had endured puberty and earned an understanding of adulthood and maturity. Now they were suddenly and awkwardly left with the knowledge in their minds, but contained within a pre-pubescent perspective. It made for some odd moments. Lucy found herself admiring a handsome young man one moment, and nearly vomiting on herself for it the next. It was woefully embarrassing.

Susan actually had it easiest. Her body had certainly regressed, but adulthood had mercifully already begun to set in before Narnia. Her confusion (though certainly heightened at times) wasn't nearly as rampant, nor as debilitating.

Peter suffered incredibly. His wife was gone. He was gone. The purpose of his simple life had vanished; Narnia lived only in his mind. Mel was back there, he could only assume, and it broke him each day. The intertwined losses took their toll, showing most blatantly in the simple bowing of the proud dark head, and the bleak fog he seemed to move about it. His siblings feared for him, and even the Professor attempted to intervene, but to no avail.

Ten days, five hours and thirteen minutes after The Return, The Four were sent back to their small town house on the outskirts of London. Their mother was overjoyed to have them back.

Ten days, eleven hours and six minutes after Falling Back Through, the children's mother realized that four strangers had come back in the guise of familiar bodies.

When they went to bed that night, she sat alone for hours, contemplating the marked differences in her young ones. Lucy seemed at once more vivacious and infinitely sad. Edmund was generally nicer, but he had shed some kind of childish innocence. He behaved, in turns, as a comical young boy and a solemn old man. These two were the most baffling in their mother's eyes - it seemed almost that there were multiple personalities battling for dominance behind such their old, sad eyes.

Susan was less caustic and more forgiving. She smiled more often, but with slight hesitation in her eyes and Mrs. Pevensie was convinced she could see worry lines crowding her daughter's delicate mouth and eyelids. Susan and the younger two deferred to Peter to a fault, rarely questioning him, and never disobeying outright. Peter, for his part, had a pinch in his handsome jaw that seemed to run straight through to his shoulders. He walked with a heavy step and when he sat, his arms rested tensely on his chair, and he was always spread wide, like he thought there was more to his slight body than there was. Mrs. Pevensie had watched him after dinner, thinking that this is how a young King Arthur must have looked; mightily tired even in his regal posture.

Whatever happened out there had sent her back four strange children who balked at being apart, even for more than a moment. The mere mention of school over tea sent Lucy into hysterical tears, to be comforted only when in the lap of her eldest brother, while the others looked down, pale, and grasped hands under the table. They had gone upstairs solemnly not long after. The girls had their sleek heads together and arms at each other's waists, the boys followed immediately behind. Peter's long arm held his brother's shoulder in a move inherently reminiscent of a father and son. The unknowing mother of Narnia's greatest Kings and Queens watched them go, and sat by the fire, feeling oddly sad and introspective.


	2. Chapter 2

**_Disclaimer: I did not birth Narnia. C.S. Lewis did, but just how is a mystery of freakish nature we shall never understand._**

_In Which Peter Tracks Time and Finds Some Peace_

Twelve days, six hours and twelve minutes After, Lucy and her mother were in the Butcher's Shoppe, their last stop before returning home. Some measure of stability seemed to have been restored to the small household and Mrs. Pevensie had convinced her youngest to accompany her on errands. It was a thinly veiled attempt at distraction, but one that Lucy reluctantly welcomed. The end of Holidays were approaching and tension among the siblings faded in and out at a dizzying rate.

Exiting the shop Lucy caught a glimpse of a girl tripping into the street and spilling the contents of her basket. For a split second she froze, then ran headlong into the crowd that was helping the girl to her feet and collect her belongings. Lucy shrieked a loud cry and flung herself at the dark-haired girl, sobbing and laughing with joy.

Mel stared at the little girl weeping in her arms before kissing her about the head and shouting with unrestrained glee. The confused strangers left the two girls to an even more confused Mrs. Pevensie, whose attempts to separate them were proving futile. Finally releasing each other, Lucy turned, spilling a great amount of information in a single breath.

"Mum this is Mel, and she's our dearest friend in the world! We met her in the country and she's like a sister to me and I can't believe she's here she tells the most wonderful stories and we've missed her so much and she's simply wonderful and we mustmustmust take her home so she can see the othersmustn'tweMumpleaseMumplease!" Mel had been shaking Mrs. Pevensie's hand vigorously during this loud explanation, spilling her basket again and laughing at Lucy's enthusiasm. At the mention of the others, however, her thought process slowed to halt. The others. Susan. Dear Edmund. And Peter. Peter. Her cheeks blushed red under Mrs. Pevensie's skeptical stare, realizing in a moment how absurd this must all seem to the kind mother. After much pleading from Lucy and a proper introduction, Lucy's mother agreed that Mel could accompany them home for dinner and a visit.

She deliriously followed the mother and daughter, only half-listening to the eight-year-old's happy chatter. Around corners, down streets, and past familiar signs Mel walked, not realizing where she was until they halted in front of the small house and approached the front steps. This was it, this was the moment she had dreamed about for the past twelve days. She panicked and sent a swift prayer out to Aslan; what if he didn't want her anymore?

Then Lucy was inside, shrilly calling for her siblings. Then Susan came running into the hall, followed by Edmund and then, and then. Over all their heads on the stairs, was Peter. He was a boy again, shorter and less broad across the chest, but it was him. He froze on the stairs, looking at her from across the hall. Mel ducked her head as he came toward her, suddenly feeling the emotional upheaval of everything that was happening. Peter rested his hand on her shoulder for a moment, and in the silence of the faded hallway, ran his fingers down her arm and brought her knuckles to his lips.

"I've missed you, Nod," his boyish voice cracking on her name.

At these words Mel dramatically flung herself at him, catching her foot on the rug in the process and knocking her head up into his nose. A tangle of arms and legs and bloody faces fell to the floor as Edmund laughed himself into tears. "Bloody brilliant!" he shouted.

Over the ensuing chaos of wet towels, concerned cries, and Edmund being soundly reprimanded for his language, Mel and Peter studiously avoided eyes, blushing wildly.

They were, of course, immensely happy to see one another, but it must be remembered that the situation was (unfortunately) somewhat awkward. The two had lived together as man and wife, and to be reunited as bashful young teens in 1940 England was, let us venture to say, rather complicated. Right as Mel had landed squarely on top of Peter in the tumble, their eyes met and her hands automatically braced his chest as he grasped her waist and hip. For a second they were reminded of the morning before The Hunt. It had been a similar position, but with decidedly less clothing and a great deal more passion. The image jolted them both, pushing a heating tension into their gaze while simultaneously reminding them that they were fourteen. Again. Their offended mild sensibilities combined with the unintentionally raucous first meeting, and some rather lusty thoughts made the whole event wholly overwhelming. They set about politely ignoring one another despite desperately wishing to be alone together.

Calm settled in and Mel explained to Mrs. Pevensie and the children her situation. The fact that she was an orphan the siblings already knew, but when they had met in Narnia everyone's memories of England were hazy enough that the details were never really bothered with. She, too, had been sent to the country over the summer to avoid the London attacks and had stayed in a neighboring village that butted against the Professor's home. Thankful for the seemingly coincidental nearness of location, the Pevensie's took over the story, saving a sweating Mel from attempting to describe activities with them on mansion grounds she had never seen and meeting the elderly scholar she had barely heard mention of.

Mel lived with two vaguely removed cousins on her mother's side who were blind as bats and kind as church mice. They resided very near the Pevensie's, and had only given cursory attention to the girl's replies of how the country had treated her, and for the first time Mel found herself exceedingly grateful for her relatives' absent-mindedness. There was a very good chance that if she were to introduced the four children, The Aunts (as she had dubbed them at a young age, despite not being her aunts at all) would simply be a bit confused and take it on faith that she had mentioned them before.

As the explanations and initial shock wore off, Mrs. Pevensie felt there was something in the hasty story that was just this side of complete truth. No doubt a hair was out of line, but she was simply so elated to have her morose children smiling widely that she brushed the feeling aside and set about preparing dinner.

Over her clatters of dishes and the stove-top, she overheard Mel divulging that The Aunts were about to move into the country in order to be closer to their relatives. This revelation was met with deathly silence. The idea that they had just found one another, only to be forced apart so immediately seemed despicably unfair. Susan's tears were audible and they discussed the move in low tones. Mrs. Pevensie broke into their conversation, insisting that they not focus on that just yet, but enjoy one another's company for the evening. Edmund was sent off with Mel to use the Corner Store's telephone to alert The Aunts that she was joining The Pevensies for dinner, and would be safely returned in a few hours. Miss Ingle and Mrs. Blat (The Aunts) were a bit confused at first, but Mel's quiet voice over the phone reassured them that, indeed, these were her friends from the country, and yes, of course, their mother was present and she was going to be fed quite well.

After they returned, Edmund was sent back to the Store, seeing as how he had completely forgotten the cream and eggs Mrs. Pevensie had requested he buy. He fumed delicately under his mother's annoyed glare, mumbling something about the sky looking dark and his feet hurting. At a swift glance from Peter, however, Edmund scooted out the door in seconds. Susan swept Lucy in to the kitchen to help their mother, all the while shooting embarrassingly obvious winks and glances at her eldest brother. This flurry of activity left Mel and Peter alone in the sitting room to stare at the walls while the even the fire seemed to grow subdued in its grate under the tension.

After a long few moments of hearing nothing but the large clock tick slowly, Peter looked over at Mel, and when she looked up at him, he promptly burst into tears. He was drained emotionally, and in much less control of his mind and feelings than he was used to. The combination of this and the most recent events left him in such a jumble he couldn't maintain face any longer.

Startled, Mel stared for a moment but in an instant was in his lap, patting the heaving shoulders and giving slight kisses to his head. Peter cried for a time before snotting awkwardly into his handkerchief and kissing then her soundly on the mouth. Feeling every inch the inexperienced adolescents they had become, they kissed and hugged and wept and touched, trying to recall their easy, passionate familiarity. They finally sat in silence, caught between happiness and severe melancholy.

Peter set Mel up on her feet and stood. He touched the baby-pink scar running up her neck and behind her ear until he was cradling her head in his big hand, saying, "I love you, you know that? We shall resolve this, Mel. I don't care how, and I don't care when, but we shall. I love you, and I am going to marry you."

"Again?" She inserted this at the end of his ardent proclamation, breaking the mood with a slight smirk.

Peter rolled his eyes and wiped at his nose. "Yes, again, you unromantic ham." Mel kissed him quickly and whispered, "I love you as well, my King." She drew back just barely before Edmund came in the front door with a bang and a shout.

"Bleeding rain! I've been drowned, Mother, and I hold you responsible! Ah, I may have also lost half the cream in a tumble off the sidewalk…"


	3. Chapter 3

**So here is the last chapter of my second "In Which" Tale. I have not yet written the third (which will be set in Prince Caspian), but I do have several mini-tales to type up yet which shall be posted regularly. They will probably all be one-shots under a single 'story'. They concern (mostly) the missing time in Narnia, as well as a few post-Narnia. I hope you're enjoying these so far, and please let me know! I'd love to hear it, and any ideas are also welcome. **

**_Disclaimer: For the love of all that is holy, Narnia is not my creation. Nor is anything contained within the original Chronicles._ _hajeez._**

_In Which The Aunts Hand over Mel, and Beyond._

For the concerned reader, Mel did not leave with her ancient cousins. She stayed on, quite happily with the Pevensies, and the way it came about was rather easy and anti-climactic.

The children visited with The Aunts quite often in the weeks following the first dinner, usually accompanied by Mrs. Pevensie, who found the ladies extremely charming. Lucy, one evening, sighed in her mother's lap that she wished Mel could just live with them always. Ideas began slowly forming in Mrs. Pevensie's mind as she watched her youngest fall asleep, a haphazard braid slung across her cheek. The children's mother had been talking with The Aunts just the day earlier about their upcoming move, and subsequent concerns regarding Mel. The ladies were getting on in years and Mel's energetic youthfulness was increasingly wearing upon them, on top of which they had little desire to remove the girl from her school seeing as how "the poor dear had suffered so much already." Mel would have been furious if she'd heard her 'situation' was being treated as such a tenderly woeful charity case. Fortunately, it was not upon her ears that the pitying (but altogether well meaning) words fell, but an open-minded, large-hearted woman with four children.

The next day Mrs. Pevensie took the walk across town to see The Aunts. An hour later she emerged triumphant, leaving behind two grateful elderly women in her wake.

The children were in the stifling attic, rooting out school items; heavy shoes, composition books, and the odd textbook accidentally purloined from the school library. They came down the stairs in rush at their mother's breathless call, confused and alarmed at her red face.

"Mel is going to stay with us. Her cousins are getting on a bit, and they do not wish to uproot her from school and immediate friends. During the holidays she shall stay with us, and over some half-terms make the visit to her relatives."

This abrupt and astounding news held them in shock for a moment, then all manner of shouting and crying was intermixed with great bouts of giddy laughter. Mrs. Pevensie was nearly knocked over from hugs and covered in kisses from her smiling mouth to a great wet smack on her waist from Lucy. Edmund virtually launched himself into his mother's arms, proclaiming her to be "the very best mum in the world, truly!" Peter was trembling as he held Mrs. Pevensie's hand, unwilling to believe his good fortune, and fighting back a wild urge to spin his mother about the hall until she fell from dizziness.

The next several days were a flurry of activity as Mel's small bed was shoved into Susan and Lucy's already crowded room, and her belongings sorted through and stored. The last night Mel stayed with The Aunts was but three days before Term Time, and the whirlwind of change began to take it's toll. She burst into tears the next morning, promising she would visit often, and she would certainly stop over again just before school began. Her tears continued surreptitiously all the way to the Pevensie's, and by the time she stood on the front step, the argument for why this drastic move was a mistake had formulated in her mind. The Aunts were, after all, the last vestiges of real blood family that she had. She and Peter were, in fact of matter, not married here, and could not be for some time; they were barely allowed a moment alone now. All of the sudden leaving The Aunts seemed traitorous, how could she walk away with so little thought and so quickly? The panic stopped her breathing momentarily, and Mel lost all ability to reclaim logical reason.

Peter opened the door to find his dear Mel staring back at him, a blank look slated on her face through a wall of tears.

"Peter, I don't think I rightly know what I'm doing."

Peter paused for a moment, but only long enough to grab one of her dark braids in a familiar gesture. "Neither do any of us, Mel. This seems like complete insanity… but I think that's why Aslan's made his move. He _must_ want us all together, none of this would make sense otherwise."

Mel looked at him. In a few short words he had unknowingly thrown her arguments away, leaving her with only one course of action.

"Well, who have I ever been to question Him." With that, she walked in the front door, holding her small bag tightly.

For it was very true. Lucy was never sure how He did it, but there was no other explanation. There was no accounting for The Aunts easy acquiescence to a mother a four whom they barely knew. For the chance meeting outside the Butcher's Shoppe that day. Nor for Mrs. Pevensie's quick acceptance of Mel into her family, and certainly none for how Susan and Mel would end up rooming together seemingly by chance at school. It could only have been Aslan, and they all silently thanked Him every day.

The first half-term of the year Mel went to The Aunts', but after that she took the train with Susan and Lucy to meet the boys halfway, and then home to the small house in the outskirts of London. Her holidays with the Pevensie's were wonderfully comfortable. Mrs. Pevensie, though still a bit confused at times as to how the young girl had so suddenly become her fifth child, grew to love her very much. Mel was quick-witted and irritatingly down to earth amongst her romantic girls and boys, keeping all of them solidly grounded and laughing. She told stories that took the mother's breath away, kissed Lucy's bruised knee with love, played jokes with Edmund and was a close confidant of Susan's. Mel also seemed able to calm Peter in an instant, helping him sort out arguments between the other three and holding him back when his angry moods seemed to get the best of his calm exterior. Mrs. Pevensie was extremely grateful for the girl's insight into her children's change of personality that had happened over the summer, and instead of usurping her position, Mel was able to to just nudge her in the right direction. The girl was a blessing, and if wasn't for her infuriating inability to talk about her own emotions, she would have been very nearly perfect. As it stood, Mel strengthened the family inarguably.

Peter and Mel's awkward relationship began to slowly sort itself. It was months before they were able to talk with one another about just why everything seemed so difficult. They had fallen in love by talking, and needing to re-learn what had always come so easily was maddening. But by the time Christmas came they were able to look at one another easier and indulge in the private conversations they used to enjoy so much. Seeing them slip away together, or sitting near enough to bend their dark heads and whisper to each other, made the other three weepy with joy. Even Edmund (who had discarded much of his emotional comfortability in Narnia) wiped tears away after the two were caught kissing under the mistletoe. His voice, gruff as it could be at eleven years old, was heard down the hall, "Blasted holidays. Always gets everyone in a state."

Such tender moments proved to be rare, for Mrs. Pevensie had noticed a distinct change in her eldest son's interactions with Mel. Before they had barely been able to look at each other in the eye without one leaving the room or blushing awfully. Now, though, Peter could not look away. They were always together and after a particularly long walk the second day of holiday, had begun referring to themselves as a single unit. "They" did this, "We" like that. They often spoke for one another, with Mel piping up regarding Peter's reading preferences, and Peter answering "No, mum, Mel won't eat anything with sardines. I don't understand it myself." It seemed that whatever had kept them at odds had been banished shortly after they came home, and as happy as Mrs. Pevensie was to see her children content, she felt an eye should be kept on them and made concerted efforts to see they were not alone together for long. To her mind, two fourteen-year-olds should not be acting like a long-married couple.

Christmas holidays passed in the highest spirits the children had felt since Narnia. Peter had found an old wedding band in the attic the day his mother announced Mel's new living arrangements and had pocketed it quietly. During one of the weekend outings into town during term, he had found a small shop that agreed to work it over, and in doing so spent all of his pocket money. It was more than worth it, however, when he saw Mel's quiet breathing and smiling eyes when she opened it Christmas morning. She strung it on a small silver chain and wore it every day there after. Mel, together with Edmund and the girls, made Peter a map of Narnia, resplendent in greens and reds, covered with her calligraphic handwriting and wrapped in leather. This gift earned all of them several hugs and a great many kisses planted on Mel's beaming face. These gifts (and others of a Narnian nature) were, of course, exchanged in the quiet of the girls' room before Christmas breakfast, the result being that very few gifts were actually exchanged beneath the tree, but the food was plenty and the holiday cheer thick in the air. Thanks was given and silent prayers were sent out to Mr. Pevensie across the sea, and quiet settled in as Christmas, and then The New Year, passed.

Spring Term came and went with little fanfare. Peter and Mel wrote to one another each day and their unofficial marriage began to repair itself as the weeks went by. The spring holidays were restful and largely spent together until Mel had to depart for the north and The Aunts (who, by the way, were living comfortably in a small gossipy village).

At the end of spring hols, the Pevensies were at the station waiting for their trains to take them to their respective schools for summer term. Mel's train was to arrive moments before the Five had to separate, the three girls going first, and the boys following a half hour later.

Peter turned, glancing down the empty platform and catching sight of Mel just as she dropped her bag full of books, went to meet her but Lucy made a noise that halted him mid-step. Suddenly all four were exclaiming about pinching and pulling, and as they grabbed hands, Peter turned, his last view before the station disappeared of Mel, who was, no doubt, cursing under her breath.

Mel gathered her books up and stood. As she straightened the world went blurry for a moment and suddenly she was staring at a large centaur and three disheveled-looking dwarves. The five strangers froze, staring at one another for a long moment with wide eyes. Mel, to her credit, took this very much in stride and broke the silence by simply saying, "Well. Hello, there."

Clearly she was Back.

Two hundred thirty-six days, ten hours, and fifty-two minutes after They fell back into this world, The Five returned to Narnia.


End file.
